


Down by the Salley Gardens

by Scrib_hneoir



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ALSO yuuri is touchy-feely but too shy to express it, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind!Yuuri, I was gonna make this a slow burn angst fic, Language Barrier, M/M, also I would like to mention, as you can see, but changed my mind bc that's too much work, deaf!Victor, it's a party at the Hasetsu hot springs, so you're welcome?, that chris is totally the friend to send stupid meme videos at 3am, victor finds it endearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9757472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrib_hneoir/pseuds/Scrib_hneoir
Summary: It's the same story, except now: almost all the characters have a physical disability, forming coherent relationships is just that much more difficult, everybody uses profane language at some point, and there's 100% more explicit intimacy than the anime.Yakov put a hand on his arm, turning Viktor to him. With Viktor’s full attention, Yakov raised his hands and sloppily signed, ‘I believe you, but be careful.’Viktor gave a determined smile in return, signing, ‘Always. I’ll take gold today, just as I have for the past four years.’





	

**Author's Note:**

> I did a fair amount of research for this, but if you find anything inaccurate please PLEASE tell me and I will fix it asap!!

_Yuuri, 13 years old_

“Triple lutz again!” Celestino shouted from the sidelines. “You haven’t landed it _once_ today, where’s your head today?!”

Yuuri sighed as he pushed himself back to his feet from the ice. “Sorry, Celestino-sensei. I promise I’ll land it before I leave.”

“Hmpf, you better, your competition is two weeks and we need to work on the enter to the jump in the routine as well as - ”

He went on to yammer about the program and Yuuri tuned his coach out, focusing on the ice below him, toeing it with the pick of his skate, frowning. This entire week had been a real mess, but even then he had been better at _mostly_ landing the triple lutz — now he was flubbing it without excuse, and it was starting to frustrate him.

“Alright, again!” Celestino called out, and Yuuri pushed his hair from his face, taking a deep breath.

“Right,” he murmured to himself, quieting his racing heart and starting up momentum, finding the right speed, turning himself backwards and maintaining the glide, bracing himself as he lifted his leg, looking hard at the ground, squinting at the opaque ice that didn’t look like it was moving at all, as if he weren’t moving at all -

When he went into the jump, he felt himself lose all balance and experienced _it_ for the fifth time today: the spiraling darkness of having no-control over where he was going to land, not being able to see the rest of his jump, all of it followed by his ankles and knees going out before landing hard on the ice.

He was going to have a lot of bruises tomorrow.

“Yuuri!” Celestino shouted. “What the hell was that?! You didn’t even go airborne!”

He hadn’t? Yuuri rolled over onto his back, staring at the gray expanse of the ceiling, trying to pinpoint the familiar rafters between the fuzzy orbs of light. What did Celestino mean he hadn’t gone airborne? Yuuri had definitely felt his feet leave the ice, and the familiar sensation had suddenly been _unfamiliar_ and _scary_.

He heard Celestino groan before stating, “Fine, that’s enough to for today. We’ll work on this more tomorrow.” Yuuri didn’t move. “Get something hot to eat, talk about whatever is going on with you with your ma. Come back with a clear head, alright?”

Yuuri nodded, still staring ahead at nothing. Celestino grunted something more before walking out of the rink, leaving Yuuri to clean himself up.

 

 

_Viktor, 18 years old_

He should have known better than to answer the phone, but he had been waiting for it to ring off its hook for hours — waiting for the good news that he could travel to St. Petersburg to practice with the olympic gold medalists. Viktor had been begging Yakov for months, and finally his coach had relented.

Outside, snow was waging a battle with nordic gods, blowing freezing wind across the land and throwing spears of lightning to the trees. When the phone rang and Viktor ran to answer it, all he could hear was a high-pitched ring and static.

It would be what he’d hear for the rest of his life.

 

 

_Yuuri, 23 years old_

“Stop this, Yuuri!” Celestino shouted, grabbing Yuuri’s arm at the stadium doors, who didn’t resist. “I’ll admit this is my fault, that I should have known and had you stop, but this is crazy talk now! Admit it, so far it’s been luck due to your competitors being sub-par. This is the _Grand Prix Final_ we’re talking about. Your career is _over_.”

Yuuri bit his lip, trying to find the words. “H-How can I just call it quits now? I’ve already made it to the semifinals… I know the rink, Celestino, I know the routine, and I… I have to compete on the same rink as _him_. I have to… And then I’ll…”

He turned to Celestino, forcing a smile despite the tears that threatened to fall.

“I’ll quit. I promise.”

 

 

_Viktor, 28 years old_

Viktor could feel Yakov judgemental gaze on his back, so he turned and grinned in what he knew was meant to be false reassurance, but also something Yakov would see right past.

“Don’t worry, I have all the beats and counts memorized,” Viktor said cheerfully, performing a pirouette just to show off. “I’ve been flawless, and it won’t stop here.”

His phone buzzed and he retrieved it to find a text from from Yuri, all of it in angry caps demanding that Viktor not make a mistake, or else it’ll make _him_ look bad. Viktor could only laugh at it.

Yakov put a hand on his arm, turning Viktor to him. With Viktor’s full attention, Yakov raised his hands and sloppily signed, ‘I believe you, but be careful.’

Viktor gave a determined smile in return, signing, ‘Always. I’ll take gold today, just as I have for the past four years.’

 

* * *

 

6 _months later_

_Present_

Yuuri took his time: a deep breath, stretching his arms, preparing not only his body but his mind, picturing the fluidity of the moves as best as he could from Yuuko letting him touch her as she posed. Of course the exact of momentum he would need to improvise as always, but at least he was alone here, no one to see him fail once, twice, a hundred times.

He pushed off, counting the seconds to the center of the rink, turning left, spinning, bringing his arms out for balance.

Three… two… one…

He jumped, turning his ankle and pushing off with his left. Airborne, four rotations, landed on his right. A perfect quadruple lutz, considering. He smiled to himself, but continued to keep count, resetting each time he changed direction.

A quadruple flip was next. Easy. No problem. It was nearly the same as the previous jump. He counted down, pushed off, landed perfectly.

As he balance himself into a camel spin, Yuuri tried to imagine what it must look like, what the routine he was performing looked like. He had been practicing for months ever since the last Grand Prix. He knew it was a routine Viktor Nikiforov had executed flawlessly. Yuuri had listened closely to the recording: to the sound of blades on ice, to the music, to the announcer’s voice… It created a beautiful and colorful picture in Yuuri’s mind, and he did his best to translate that to the ice.

His next jump, a quadruple schalow, he landed wrong. The picture fuzzed, but remained. Yuuri gritted his teeth and restarted the count, leading back into the jump, timing it again.

The skates cut the ice and he felt the wind rush past his face. Touch first foot down, absorb the jump in the knee, glide.

Perfect.

Yuuri didn't need the music, he could hear it all too clearly from listening to it hours on end. To anyone else in the rink, they’d only hear his skates and see his near-disastrous jumps; but to him, he heard the music, the beat, could see the ghost-colors of Viktor jumping and himself following, turning his body, gliding, nailing the steps. When he flubbed a jump, the music rewinded and he simply started over.

Most people saw him as handicapped, but Yuuri just saw himself as different. He experienced the world differently than everyone else, especially on the ice. Phichit always said Yuuri’s body flowed with a natural discipline, a control Phichit had worked years to learn and was _still_ learning. Phichit had been jealous, but good-natured about it. Yuuri told him that he himself didn’t have any tricks, just memorization and motivation.

The hardest part was coming up, the quadruple flip into the triple flip. He had nearly broken a wrist practicing it, but he had it down now, he know he did. _Start the count slow_ , he commanded himself, focusing on his breathing, on maintaining the image of the jump in his mind. He hated these kinds of ghost images, the ones that overlapped with two different pictures, distorting the image of what he had to do.

 _No._ Focus. Count, remember the count. One, two… three -

He jumped, feeling his body turn, feeling the cold air wrap around his body and kiss his face. As soon he touched down, he maintained the momentum, changing the count to nanoseconds before he jumped again, airborne a shorter time, landing hard on a wobbling ankle but holding the form. Glide.

Yuuri exhaled in relief, moving his arms and legs in the rest of the routine like it was second nature. The hard part was over and he had landed the hardest one with ease. Sure his form was probably all wrong, but no one was around to judge him.

He continued his thoughts into the final combination spin, finally dropping the count to simply enjoy the sound of his skates cutting the ice and his hard breath in the otherwise silent air. He really did love the ice.

He really would miss this place.

The final note struck and Yuuri snapped his body into the end position: arms crossed, elbows up, face tilted to the sky. His breath came hard and his chest burned. Maybe that was enough for today. No, this was definitely enough for -

“Amazing, Yuuri-kun!” Yuuko exclaimed from the side of the rink, startling Yuuri into almost falling on his side. Had he been so caught up in the music he hadn’t heard her approach?

“Yu-Yuuko-san?!” he gasped, skating towards her voice, knocking his legs against the side of the rink. “How long have you been there?”

“I’m sorry, Yuuri-kun! But I haven’t seen you skate in ages and I couldn’t help myself!” she squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “And you were so good! It was magical! I could almost hear the music myself!”

Yuuri laughed nervously. “Th-thanks, Yuuko-san. I mean, I did mess up most of the jumps - ”

“But you landed that quadruple lutz perfectly the second time! You hadn’t even attempted a quad in the last Grand Prix!”

“Ahhhhh Yuuko-san,” Yuuri moaned, not even wanting to think about a near half a year ago. “Please don’t remind me. I only came home because kasan needs help around the inn.”

“And yet you’re here, aren’t you?”

The innocence of her tone made him pause. Lifting his hand, he reached out until his fingers brushed her cheek. Slowly, he trailed them over her forehead and eyes, brushing her nose and lips and jaw, drawing her face in his mind as he went.

She was pitying him.

“I’m sorry, Yuuko-san, but this may very well be the last time I ever skate. I’m getting too old, you know that.”

“Your not even twenty-four,” she huffed.

Yuuri pushed himself to the rink door, stepping off the ice and counting the six steps to the benches. He felt Yuuko take a seat next to him, though she didn’t say anything. Once his skates were in his bag, Viichan’s harness jingled to life and she padded over, pushing her wet nose against Yuuri’s palm.

“She didn’t miss this place,” Yuuko joked, voice strained, trying to lighten the mood.

Yuuri gave Viichan’s ears a scratch before standing, wrapping a hand firmly around the cold bar secured to her back.

“Neither did I,” Yuuri murmured. He gave the bar a gentle shake. “C’mon, Viichan, take me home.”

 

 

Viktor didn’t hate many things, but the one thing that could drive him up a wall were long days. Five AM to ten PM, non-stop practice with two meal breaks and not a minute to breathe. If he wasn’t practicing, Yakov had dragged him to get measured for a new outfit even though Viktor had made it clear he wasn’t skating in the regional competition.

“Doesn’t matter,” Yakov had said, “it’s for whenever your next one is.”

Dragging himself out of the bath was a chore for his aching muscles that wanted nothing more than to soak in the warm water until he died. Beside him, Makkachin sat and innocently watched him. Viktor managed a feeble smile as he wrapped himself in a towel and headed to his room. His entire body was complaining and half of him was simply _dying_ for an excuse not to repeat it all tomorrow.

As he pulled a shirt over his head, his phone buzzed and flashed from the bedside table. Viktor frowned, wondering what Yakov wanted now.

When he picked it up, he found not a message from Yakov, but from Chris, nothing but a set of heart emojis and a youtube link. Frowning even more and wondering if he had time for this, Viktor wandered out to his living room, collapsing on the couch and patting his stomach for Makkachin to join him.

_> > what is this?_

\- Viktor texted, cautious after the last video Chris had sent him.

 _< < just watch it!! (_ ๑ ♡ _3_ ♡ ๑ _)_

\- was all he got in reply. Sighing, he loaded the preview and was relieved to see that it was only a skating video and nothing suspicious.

_“[KATSUKI YUURI] TRIED TO SKATE VIKTOR’S FS PROGRAM [STAY CLOSE TO ME]”_

…Nothing suspicious

Viktor flipped back to messages and texted angrily,

_> > what did you send me??_

_< < chill out! theres no sound anyway ^3^~_

Viktor frowned, feeling too physically and emotionally exhausted to put up with Chris’ whims and suggestions, even if it was only a video.

But the “no sound” part did intrigue him…

Viktor sighed and clicked the link again, pressing play, deciding he had nothing to lose. Worst came to worst, he’d complain about it and maybe Chris would never do it again.

It started out rough and weird. Viktor had never seen anyone else skate his routine but himself on video. Well, that was lie, other people had tried to mimic it, but whatever this Yuuri Katsuki guy was doing made the routine look alien and -

The first jump, a quadruple lutz, was clumsy yet balanced and when the boy’s foot touched down Viktor _heard it_.

Cold shivers danced up his back and his body shuddered as his mind grappled for the unwarranted sound. It hadn’t just been the distant sound of his eighteen-year-old self skating at the empty rink, the sound that had replayed in his head for years until he finally learned to ignore it — no, there had been something more, an indescribable note of -

Viktor sat up, full attention on the video now. Yuuri Katsuki was leading into the next jump, a quadruple flip, and with each hand motion and turn and glide Viktor was piecing together something he had never thought he’d experience again.

_Music._

It was faint but it was there. It oh so very _definitely there_. Viktor knew which piano note was which from the hum the chords made, memorized from hours sitting next to his mother play even after the accident. He’d hold his palm over the soundboard as she played “Amazing Grace.” A. B. C-sharp. E-flat. All of it in F-major. And now _this_ , his signature song, the one song he felt any connection to at all, he knew he was hearing for the first time.

“Makkachin,” he murmured, his fingers curling into the dog’s fur, “we’re going to Japan.”

 

 

Yuuri woke the next morning to his phone ringing ‘O Fortuna’ right in his ear, so chosen because whenever anyone called him it was usually bearing bad news — today was no exception. Groggily, he groped for it, flipping it open and answering tiredly, “Hello?”

 _“Yuuri!”_ Yuuko exclaimed. _“Have you seen the video?!”_

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at the wall, not bothering to answer.

_“Right, never mind. Anyway, apparently one of my kids filmed you yesterday and posted it online! I’m so so sorry if I had realized I would have stopped them!”_

“Ah… no… it’s fine, Yuuko-san…” Yuuri distantly heard himself murmur.

_“Apparently it was an overnight sensation and has half a million views and - ”_

“It has _what_?!” Yuuri exclaimed as he felt his soul leave his body. He slumped back over his pillow, letting his phone snap shut. “Ah… this is it…” he muttered to his room. “I’m never leaving this room… This is where I die…”

The gods didn’t leave him any time to himself. Minutes later, his door was being thrown open and Minako was shouting, “Hey! Snap out of it! Aren’t your proud?”

“No! Besides, I _quit_ , what’s the point in having anything to do with - ”

“Yuuri!”

“What?!”

He didn’t mean to snap, but he had _just_ woken up and with everything going on he was already functioning on a short fuse — Minako’s excitable behavior wasn’t working miracles right now.

Minako exhaled and Yuuri could imagine the way her face relaxed, her eyes softening and cheeks dropping into a thoughtful frown. “Yuuri-kun… I know this isn’t what you wanted, especially after the decision you made. I respect that.” Yuuri’s head followed the sound of her kneeling, the rustle of cloth as she folded her arms. “But don’t be entirely bitter. What’s happened has happened.” The floorboards creaked and Minako set a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. His eyes widened at her. “The inn is gonna be busy today; if you need a quiet place the studio is open to you.”

Yuuri relaxed into a smile, grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Minako-sensei.”

Her touched turned into a hard slap and she shifted back into her usual self. “Well, can’t lay around all day! Let’s see if your ma needs any help.” Her smile shone in her words and Yuuri couldn’t help but reflect it.

“…Alright.”

 

 

When his flight landed, Viktor was practically vibrating in his seat. Nothing seemed to move fast enough; not the people disembarking, not the belt carrying his suitcase, not Makkachin’s quick guide, not the cab-drive to _Yu-topia Katsuki_. He tipped the driver generously before throwing himself from the cab and -

At the gates of the hot springs he felt his feet freeze in the heavy snowfall, all his determination deflating at quickly as it had come as he wondered: what was he doing? In less than twenty-four hours he had leapt from big-city-St. Petersburg to nowhere-Hasetsu without a word to Yakov. The only one who knew anything about anything was Chris, and honestly it didn’t comfort Viktor that Chris would likely be explaining his disappearance.

A hand landed on his shoulder just as Makkachin pulled on her leash and Viktor jumped, whirling around in surprised panic, startling both Makkachin and the cab driver from before. Makkachin barked in protest, Viktor felt it vibrate through his leg, but settled down a second later. Viktor watched as the man started running his mouth, lips and tongue moving in a foreign language that made Viktor dizzy. He held up a hand, pointing to his ears, then said in uncomfortable english, “I don’t understand.”

The man immediately apologized and said in his own broken english, “Have…” He pointed at Viktor. “Come… for… springs?” He pointed behind Viktor at the _Yu-topia_ sign.

Viktor nodded, quickly taking out his phone and typing: _I’m looking for…_ He paused, trying to remember how to spell the man’s name in english. After a moment he gave up, showing the cab driver what he had written before pulling up the video Chris had sent and pointing to the skating Yuuri Katsuki.

Realization dawned across the cab driver’s face and he smiled wide, saying something more in what Viktor assumed was Japanese before grabbing Viktor’s hand and steering him up the short hill to the hot springs inn. Makkachin trotted along, sticking closer to Viktor than usual — she didn’t like new places any more than he did. When the three of them reached the inn doorway, they encountered an woman enjoying a cigarette, two-toned hair pulled back by a hairband, face deadpan and tired. She was dressed in a strange clothing: a baggy shirt and pants that came around her knees, all covered by an apron as if it were uniform of some sort — she was probably an employee enjoying a break.

The cab driver greeted her and Viktor watched in quiet confusion as they exchanged words rapidfire, the driver gesturing to Viktor and then to the inn, the woman replying tiredly without a single change in expression. At last the driver turned to Viktor and asked, “Name?” in english.

“Меня зовут Виктор Никифоров,” Viktor answered first before pulling out his ID, holding it up for the driver and the woman to lean in and scrutinize with increasingly brightening expressions.

“Holy shit!” the woman exclaimed in what Viktor recognized as english. She slapped the cab driver repeatedly before throwing down her cigarette and rushing inside, leaving the driver to stamp it out. The driver was speaking rushed Japanese at Viktor, and Viktor could only give him a confused and bewildered expression.

“Так, is Yu… Yuu… ri… here?” Viktor asked slowly, the foreign name sticking in his mouth more than he would have liked.

The driver paused, then nodded vigorously. He glanced inside for the women from before, then disappeared inside after her, leaving Viktor by himself. Victor looked down at Makkachin, shrugged, then with a hand tight on her leash, he stepped inside.

The inn atmosphere was incredibly warm despite the open doorway to the bitter outside. Victor’s phone buzzed as he quickly fished it from the depths of his pocket, relieved to see it was a text from Georgi and not Yakov or Chris.

_< < I can’t believe you skipped off to Japan!! Yakov is furious!!!!_

Victor didn’t need much of an imagination to picture Yakov red in the face and taking it out on Georgi, Mila, and Yuri. He did feel a _little_ bad, but this was much more important at the moment — he could apologize later.

Makkachin woofed, the vibration making Viktor jump, and he snapped his head up to see the cap driver returning with the woman from before and an older woman with a round face and kind eyes. She also stood a foot shorter than Viktor, and she had to look up to greet him in -

Sign language?!

Viktor glanced between her hands and lips, amazed as she spoke at the same time — especially since she was likely speaking in Japanese for the others present, but was signing in ASL.

‘— looking for my son?’ she asked, then made a couple foreign gestures in what Victor assumed was her son’s name in JSL.

Viktor felt his body flood with excitement. He told Makkachin to sit so he had both hands to hastily sign back in ASL, ‘Yes! My name is V-I-K-T-O-R and I wish to speak with…’ He trailed off, unsure how to say “Yuuri Katsuki,” so he opted for taking out his phone and showing the video’s title again.

The woman’s face lit up like the rising sun, her smile brighter than anything Viktor had seen in years. Despite her clear excitement, her hands remained calm and still as she signed, ‘He’ll be ecstatic to meet you. I’ll take your things to a room, please feel free to use our hot springs until then. My husband will meet you there.’

Viktor grinned and nodded. ‘Thank you so much.’

 

 

“Yuuri!” Mari exclaimed, crashing into his room. “Oh, fuck, why are the lights off.”

Yuuri sighed at that, turning towards her voice. “What? I’m out of bed, what more do you want.”

“Never mind that, come with me now! There’s someone you gotta see!”

“If you weren’t my sister,” Yuuri sighed, knowing he didn’t need to complete the sentence. Still, there was a sense of urgency in her voice, so he groped for Viichan’s harness bar and heaved himself to his feet, leaving _The Raven and Other Poems_ for another time.

Yuuri let Viichan and Mari lead him out of the room. Yuuri counted the steps under his thoughts. _Who was here to see him? Why didn’t Mari give a name, and why did she seem so excited? Is it someone important? So I have a package? A foreign fan? No, no one would come see me for my ice skating…_

“Um, Mari, who exactly is here?” Yuuri asked as they entered the front rooms of the inn.

“Huh, he’s gone,” she said, sounding dumbfounded. She let Yuuri’s hand go as she called, “Hey, ma! Where’d the foreign fellow go?”

…“Foreign fellow”? Yuuri was even more stumped than before.

“Ah, I think he’s in the baths now with Toshiya!” Hiroko replied. “Toshiya is teaching him how to say Yuuri’s name — poor man couldn’t pronounce anything outside English!”

Well, Yuuri was thoroughly out of possible conclusions of where this was going.

“Who is it, though?” he asked, moving his free hand behind his back so Mari couldn’t grab it as easily.

“Hm, how was it pronounced?” Hiroko mused. “Vi… Vik… tor? Yes, Viktor Nik - ”

“ _Viktor Nikiforov?!_ ” Yuuri exclaimed, the name exploding like a bomb in his mind, sending his inner balance reeling — he felt like he was about to fall over as he wondered why in the _hell_ someone like _the_ Viktor would come to backwards _nowhere_ Japan just to see - ?

“Viichan, take me to the hot springs,” Yuuri ordered, turning abruptly, already on his way with Viichan a step behind.

“Yuuri, do you - ?”

“No, I got it, thank you, Mari,” he called over his shoulder. No, this couldn’t be right. _The_ Viktor couldn’t be _here_. It was probably just a misunderstanding. Someone with the same name. Who also happened to be Russian. And also happened to -

“Woof!”

\- have a dog…

Viichan barked in response and Yuuri almost slipped. He slowed his pace and tried to slow his mind with it. “Okay, think this through, Yuuri,” he muttered under his breath. “Statistically speaking it’s probably just a coincidence, so you shouldn’t get excited, okay? Okay. Cool.” He pushed open the door to the outside baths.

“ - how you write Katsuki,” Yuuri’s dad was in the midst of saying. Someone grunted a reply. “And the english pronunciation is beneath it, you see.”

“Y-es,” a different, masculine voice replied, the word spoken like a creak bubble over a rocky bed — spoken by someone who knew how it was pronounced but couldn’t hear it himself.

A dog barked. Viichan barked back. Yuuri felt two pairs of eyes land on him and he knew his face flamed under the attention, especially when he no longer held a doubt that -

“Y-ou a-re Yuu-ri?” Viktor said, in english, as he lurched from wherever he was, barefeet slapping on wet stone over to Yuuri, a hand landing on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri, mind still spinning, felt himself nod because that was _definitely_ Viktor Nikiforov’s voice — he recognized it from hours listening to the TV and skater interviews.

There was a long pause, and Yuuri knew Viktor was looking over every part of Yuuri’s face. His skin was crawling with embarrassment, but he remained rooted to the spot. Near the ground, Viichan was sniffing another dog — probably Viktor’s special aids dog, Makkachin. With that and the hot spring baths bubble gently, everything else was silent. Yuuri felt like he was floating.

“Y-es,” Viktor said at last, drawing Yuuri back to attention. “Yo-ur eyes…”

Yuuri felt himself deflate a little. Here it went: someone commenting on how blank and unnerving his gaze was and how it made them uncomfortable -

“A-re f-illed with mus-ic!”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ^u^
> 
> YA GUYS I GOT NO BETA #FUCKME (so expect the chapters to be updated periodically with new and edited version)
> 
> title of the piece from the song ["Down by the Salley Gardens"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pr9cUkpEz4E), a traditional Irish folk song that I learned on the harp way back when and eternally holds a special place in my heart  
> original idea of the story inspired by the song ["Chase You Down"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Owz2Wr5cozo)


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